


Si Vis Amari, Ama

by sirjusblack



Category: brendon urie - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baristas, Brendon Urie - Freeform, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, POV Female Character, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-07-14 18:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16045697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirjusblack/pseuds/sirjusblack
Summary: Coffee is a daily pleasure for most. For Josie Rosetti, it’s her entire career. Walls are built, and Josie intends for them to stay up, forever distant from her coworkers and potential friends. Until someone invades. Will Josie let him stay, or kick him out, preferring the safety of isolation?





	1. First Goodbyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Firstly, I want to thank you so much for giving this fic even a few minutes of your time. This first chapter is kind of short and slow, but it picks up quickly! This is my first ever fic, so please be kind and leave comments and kudos! I'm so in love with this story and have been thinking about it for a while, and I'm so excited to share it. I don't know everything about it yet, so tags may change, and if anything potentially harmful happens, I will always include it in the author's notes. Okay, that's all. Thank you for reading, and I hope you like it!

“Oh, come on you guys. I’ll be a bus ride away!” I say, faking a smile. I’m acting my heart out, and the stage is the concrete tiling of the coffee shop. 

This fact doesn’t change the facial expressions of my coworkers. I cross the coffee shop to clean off the counter one last time.

“You could always say no!” Someone interjects. Her name slips my mind. She’s new, and I already have one foot out the door. 

“Oh, perfect. Turn down a job directly assigned from corporate. A job, mind you, that is closer to my apartment, and has the potential to double my salary by this time next year!”

I maintain a breathy tone through the exchange and add a laugh at the end for reassurance. The last thing I need is to give a bad impression on my last day to the coworkers that I’ve pretended to like for the past 6 months.

As the minute hand of the clock passes 8 pm, I realize that it’s time to go. I’ve spent several months here, but one more minute could cause me to explode. I hang up my brown barista apron donning the “Cocoa Connection” logo, knowing tomorrow I’ll be wearing one just like it a few miles up the road. I am so awful at driving at night, and my exhaustion is making the thought even more dreadful. I wipe the lenses of my glasses on my sweater, clearing away the oil and sweat that has accumulated throughout my typical 10-hour shift behind the counter of the coffee bar. 

“Seriously, I have to get going.”

I can never read this group. I can’t tell if they are going to miss me, or if they are feigning interest so human resources won’t breathe down their necks. Keeping my guard up, I always tend to assume the latter. I rarely trust people in my work environments, and I’ve been here way too long. This location transfer, even if I am in the same town, feels like a potential for change. However, I’ve never allowed my shell to break, and for my work environment to affect me. I don’t plan to change that anytime soon, definitely not now. I can’t stay here anymore. I’m in this for the long haul, not for some fleeting friendships. Before my coworkers can say anything more, my feet are carrying me out the door. 

It’s not like a typical job-leaving walk of shame. There’s no box of belongings with some fairly obvious houseplant or a photo of some loved one. I bring and leave nothing. Exactly as it should be. 

I see my coworkers waving to me and mouthing goodbyes, but I can’t hear a thing. This is simply manifest destiny. I never could have stayed with these people, with their perfectly white teeth and tennis shoes. No character. That’s not a person, it’s just a human. They’re alive, but not living.

“Bye Josie! We’ll miss you!”

I climb into my faithful Subaru and screech out of the parking lot. This is cause for celebration. I make the mammoth effort of rolling down my driver’s side window. I pull my hair out of its usual messy bun and let the Colorado evening air flow through it.

At a red light, I connect my auxiliary chord to my phone, scrolling through my possible soundtracks for the night. I can’t seem to decide, so I let shuffle do it for me. “Oh No!” by Marina and the Diamonds, a solid choice.

Subconsciously knowing that I have officially left my previous place of work, I allow myself to let loose a bit. The scrunchie on my wrist flies out the window, but I can’t be bothered to stop and search for it. I can’t be caged or stopped by anything or anyone.

As I approach my apartment, the thoughts of night begin. I don’t consider myself an anxious person, but the evenings when I’m alone with my thoughts can test my resolve. I begin my nightly routine of checking every light, every door and window, and every kitchen appliance, despite the fact that I haven’t been home all day. I’ve come to accept it. 

Feeling satisfied with my examination, I shower and get ready for bed. I stare up at the glow in the dark stars that have been on the ceiling of my bedroom since I moved here four years ago. It’s as if the child that was in this room before me knew I needed a little comfort, and an excuse not to remove it. “The whimsy of it all,” I explain away to the occasional house guest. 

Surprisingly, I fall asleep rather quickly. Less than two hours, not too bad. I have a dreamless sleep, but the last thing I can remember before finally succumbing to my fatigue is the faintest bit of doubt in my confidence. As much as I like to think so, I can’t control all my surroundings. Dealing with that fact has always been difficult. I can only hope tomorrow starts a new experience, and a new chance to attempt to learn that lesson. 

By the law of total probability, tomorrow could be the first day of the rest of my life. I drift to sleep under the stars.


	2. A Bit of Trouble, a Bit of Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Firstly, thank you SO MUCH for 63 hits already! It only gets better from here. We finally are introduced to Brendon this chapter! Also, my chapters vary a lot in length and I apologize for that, but they will be over 1,500 words 99% of the time. Okay, that's all. Thank you for reading!

I’ve always fancied myself an actress. This morning would be no different. I rise with the sun, my supposed “blackout” curtains failing to let me sleep a little longer. I have a new life to attend to, after all.

I’m thankful to have risen a bit early. It gives me plenty of time to work on my persona for the day. I pull myself out of bed and reach for my tea kettle. Halfway through, I stop myself. Today is a day for reinvention, which is cause for celebration; coffee it is. The caffeine normally gives me jitters, but I can’t resist this morning. My resolve melts away, and I set up the coffee pot and head back to my room.

With the coffee only just starting to brew, I need to wake myself up before I fall back asleep on top of my makeup bag. I take a freezing cold shower, and force myself to have a 15 minute dance party to Saint Motel. Seeing as it’s a special day, I exfoliate my face and shave above the knee, the latter being more of a rarity. Today really is the start of a new life.

When the water starts to feel lukewarm, I emerge from the shower and get to work on my appearance. I don’t do a full face of makeup, but it’s nowhere near natural either. I use concealer, fill in my eyebrows, apply a small amount of eyeliner, and add a brick red lipstick to pull it all together. I look different, but I still recognize myself in the mirror. I use setting spray and add some dry shampoo to my hair. The contrast of my done-up face and natural hair is something my old college roommate would be proud of. “It’s all about contrast,” she’d say. Kate swore she was a beauty guru in training. I miss her. Sometimes. 

I throw together a plain black outfit consisting of a tee shirt, ripped jeans, and Doc Martens. I finally add my barista apron, effectively killing the look I’ve constructed. I grab my phone, wallet, and keys and prepare to head out the door. Right before I do, I remember the coffee. I pour some into a reusable to-go cup, and add plenty of cream and sugar. Some things never change. I leave the house for real this time, rushing to my car to turn on the defroster. I get in and look at the clock. I have a 25 minute drive at the very least ahead of me, and I have 10 minutes to get to work.

“Shit shit shit..” I whisper to no one in particular, fumbling to shove my keys into the ignition. The car finally starts, but I can’t go anywhere until the defroster does its job. I can’t even see out my windshield. I frantically Google the phone number for my new branch of The Cocoa Connection and dial it, but to no avail. I am supposed to be there at 8 AM, and I should have guessed that no one would be there to answer the phone before opening.

“Fuck it,” I think. I can only partially see my mirrors, but I can’t be late on my first day. I pull out of the parking lot of my apartment complex and speed down the freeway. Despite the minimal traffic due to the early hour, I still arrive approximately 4 minutes late. I thought today I would adopt a brand new attitude, but as I run inside, barely holding onto my coffee and wallet, the same old uneasiness creeps up. “Not today, not now,” I beg my brain, but generalized anxiety rests for nothing and no one. I’m sure I look like an absolute wreck, but I can’t bother to change anything right now. It’s time to clock in and hope no one notices anything.

I approach the time clock, trying to appear as casual as possible. I see my superior in the corner talking to some other employee, and he hasn’t noticed me. Perfect. I almost feel relief wash over me, but then I see the guy in the corner who’s been watching me since I walked in. He has short, brown, floppy hair that falls over his forehead ever so slightly, and deep brown eyes. For a man, he has nicely groomed eyebrows. He’s tall, but not so much that he’d tower over me. The last thing I notice is a large tattoo of piano keys on his left forearm. I feel a little awkward, and realize that I notice such obscure details about people. I feel more awkward when I realize that I’m now staring back at him. I duck my head and walk to the back of the cafe to put my things in a locker in the break room. 

I enter the main lounge area of the cafe again, and see the guy from earlier talking to my superior. As he speaks, he glances over at me and keeps his focus there. That asshole is ratting me out for being late. Typical. I figure there’s no point in hiding anymore and walk over to the two of them.

“Good morning, Mr. Mattock,” I say with a smile. Maybe if I’m sickeningly sweet, he’ll forget whatever this jerk just told him.

“Good morning. You must be Josie, yes?” He asks. For some painstaking reason, he’s acting like he doesn’t know I was late on my first day. Is this some kind of game he and this mystery guy are playing?

“That’s me. It’s my first day, but I’m sure you knew that.” I feel that anxiety bubbling in my stomach again. Can he just cut to the chase and scold me already?

“Well you came at just the right time. This is Brendon, he’s the other barista on your shift. He will also be training you today. I understand you just came from another location, but it’s a legal thing. I’m headed to corporate for some meetings today, otherwise I’d do it myself.” Mr. Mattock explains. This has to be some kind of sick joke. My incredible luck strikes again. 

“Oh. Wonderful.” I add just enough enthusiasm for Mr. Mattock to think I’m happy, but not enough for Brendon to think the same. Why me? 

“I look forward to working with you.” Brendon says with a grin. It’s halfway between sincerity and sarcasm. I can’t tell which half I hate more. Before I can get another word in, Mr. Mattock pipes up again.

“Well, I’ll be off. Good luck, you two!” He shouts over his shoulder as he briskly speedwalks out the door. And then there were two.

“Josie. That’s a nice name.” Brendon starts the conversation. It seems like a genuine compliment, but he’s smirking the whole time. 

“Braiden isn’t too bad either.” Maybe I need to try to have some fun with this situation. 

“It’s Brendon,” he says, reaching around his back to tighten his apron.

“I know,” I reply, heading around to the back of the counter. “Now, show me how to make the same coffee that I’ve made every day for the past six months.”

“Sure thing, sweets.” I don’t know how to feel about his pet names, seeing as I met him 5 minutes ago. Brendon makes sure to take his time explaining everything under the sun, even inconsequential things like the filtration of the milk frother. It’s enough to make my head spin. Nothing is more frustrating than receiving information you already know. Every time I point out the fact that he’s over explaining something, he flashes a smirk and takes even longer. After a certain point, I just sit back and let him talk, mentally zoning out. 

Finally, lunch rolls around. I sigh in relief at the thought of even 3o minutes away from this man, but of course, we have the same break time. A woman named Diane clocks in a few minutes before our break and takes her place behind the counter. I try to introduce myself, but she’s not having any of it. “I could have worked at corporate if my daughter hadn’t broken up with my FUCKING BOSS!” She seems to have some unresolved issues, and I leave her to take her anger out on the customers waiting for their afternoon pick-me-ups.

I sit down in the break room and realize I don’t have any lunch. I could go buy something from the cafe, but that would mean facing Diane again. Starvation it is. It’s already 1 PM, and my shift is over at 4. I can wait a little longer. I decide to use my break time to take a power nap, but before I can, Brendon walks in, meal prep containers in hand. It stings to admit that he’s more prepared than me. 

“Hard boiled egg?” Brendon holds out an egg to me. I can admit they’re gross, but they’re so damn good. Reluctantly, I take one. Unfortunately, he takes this as an invitation to sit down with me. Brendon just looks at me for a bit. Silence is never an option for men, so Brendon licks his lips, searching for something to say. I won’t give him the satisfaction of getting the first word in.

“Why did you rat me out this morning?” I ask. It’s been at the back of my mind all day, pissing me off, slowly but surely.

“No clue what you’re talking about,” Brendon replies. So this is his game? Fine, two can play it.

“Right. I’m so sure you were talking to our boss while staring at me for no reason in particular. That’s always a good sign on your first day of work.” I refuse to back down.

“Please, enlighten me: What purpose would I have for telling Mr. Mattock that you were late? Other than the look on your face? Just out of curiosity.” He bites back. He must be joking.

“Oh, I don’t know. Just by the nature that you’re a man, and men have a way of purposely pissing me off at any available point in time.” It’s harsh, but I think about my dad. I mean every word I said. I’ve rendered Brendon speechless. It’s a talent. I grab what remains of my coffee from the morning, and head to the microwave to reheat it. My patience is being tested, and I need to get up and move before I explode.

Brendon puts a hand over his heart, pretending to be shot. “Ouch, Rosetti.”

I want to ask how he knows my last name, but we are coworkers on the same shift. Of course he knows something as simple as my last name. I wrack my brain for his last name, but I can’t seem to find it. I’ll have to find something else to antagonize him with from my arsenal. Something fun.

“You’ll get over it, Braiden.” I smile the fakest grin imaginable, and it shows. I’m half real and half fake angry at the man in front of me. Is he lying? Maybe. He has no real reason to, but perhaps that doesn’t stop him. For some, lying is a hobby. Letting the half of me that’s actually angry win, I take my coffee out of the microwave and exit the break room. I don’t slam the door or do anything to show my rage; I want to let him wonder. As I leave, I don’t have to turn around to know that the small chuckle he lets out equates to a large, genuine smile. Is he really having this much fun? 

Soon enough, lunch is over, and the day passes without much excitement. My training is over, so I avoid talking to Brendon when possible. As the coffees go down the assembly line, 4 PM slowly approaches. My phone buzzes in my pocket, signaling the end of a very trying first day. I unhook my apron and hang it over my arm as I return to the break room to grab my wallet and my keys. My hands are so full, but I’ve never liked purses. My mother will die mad about that fact.

I head to the door, and right before I turn around to push it open with my back, Brendon is reaching to hold the door for me. 

“Have a nice night.” He says. He’s smirking again. What is possibly going through his head?

“Sure.” I simply reply. Half because he isn’t my favorite person in the world today, and half because I’m far too tired to muster anything else. 

I drive home in silence, too tired to choose the soundtrack of the night. I think of Brendon the whole way home. Who does he think he is? Starting the day trying to get me in trouble and ending it with an attempt at chivalry? It makes my blood boil. The only word I can think to use is “obnoxious.” I don’t even realize I’ve reached my apartment because I’m so consumed with my thoughts. I unlock the door and go inside, starting my vigorous evening routine. Despite being out all day, I have to check the locks on my windows and doors, the power to the oven and stove, and every other electrical outlet in my home. I’m groggy and keep falling asleep on the couch or on any available piece of furniture, so the process takes much longer than usual. I can’t bring myself to complete my full nightly routine, so I brush my teeth, throw my hair up in a scrunchie, and use a makeup wipe over my face. I pull on an oversized sweatshirt and slide into bed. I’m exhausted, so it only takes about an hour and a half to wind down. Not particularly looking forward to tomorrow, I drift to sleep under the stars.


	3. A New Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I don't have much to say about this chapter, besides that it's the start of a big turning point in the story and that I'm really happy with this chapter. I don't want to ramble on too long, so I'll end it here. Thank you for reading, enjoy!

The next few days of work pass without consequence. The routine is the same every morning: Wake up, get dressed and ready for work, make the coffee, get annoyed by Brendon, go home, check everything in the house, go to sleep. It’s horribly mundane, but it pays the bills for now. On my first Friday at The Cocoa Connection, Brendon does something that annoys me even more than usual. The camera flash is white, but I’m seeing red. Brendon pulls the camera away from my face and waits for the photo to print.

“What the hell?” I yell, perhaps a little too loudly for a family friendly venue. A mom with her young daughter in tow stares me down.

Brendon pretends he is none the wiser. “What?” 

“I don’t know if you were trying at all to be sneaky, but why are you taking photos of me?” I’m very annoyed. Photos make me so anxious, you never know what you’ll look like in them. Only I know my angles and my good sides.

“No reason.” Brendon simply shrugs. Why does he insist on playing dumb all the time?

“I’m giving you one more chance,” I say as calmly as I can manage. “Why are you taking photos of me?” I ask again.

“Photography is my passion.” He says overdramatically. He puts a hand on his chest and throws his head back, milking the one liner. I don’t laugh. Knowing he wouldn’t show the photo to me no matter how many times I ask, I head back around the counter, ending my lunch break early. 

I glance over at Brendon and see him frantically running back behind the counter while tightening his apron. I turn to the front door and see Mr. Mattock rushing in, blotting his face with a handkerchief.

“Is Diane here?” He asks. With my annoyance towards Brendon over the photo issue, I didn’t realize that she wasn’t here to cover our lunch break. It’s not much of a big deal as the store has been pretty empty today, but that doesn’t stop Mr. Mattock from getting even more red in the face when I answer.

“No, sir.” I brown nose hard. I am still worried about my first day’s tardiness. Mr. Mattock doesn’t seem like the type of person to forget about something like that. 

“First she cancels her attendance for the convention, now she doesn’t show up to work, and Emily, I mean, Diane’s daughter, isn’t returning my- nevermind.” He stumbles over his words. He seems a bit loose lipped today.

“CoffeeCon?” Brendon asks. I think I’ve heard of it. There seems to be niche conventions for just about everything these days, including coffee. I didn’t know anyone from The Cocoa Connection was supposed to be in attendance.

“Yes! That goddamn convention is one of the most important events of the year for us, and Diane just drops out at the last second! That bi-”

“Maybe there’s something we can do…” Brendon cuts him off at just the right time, with a tone that is half suggesting and half condescending. I have no idea what he is about to propose, but I’m sure I’m not going to like it. It’s Brendon, after all.

“How can you possibly fix this?” Mr. Mattock has shifted from anger to desperation. Is this convention really that important?

“Josie and I are free this weekend, perhaps we can take Diane’s place.” Brendon plainly states. I’m sure the look on my face is ridiculous, as I am torn between being completely and utterly pissed at Brendon and continuing to suck up to Mr. Mattock. The look of relief that washes over his face is borderline cartoonish.

“Really? Thank you two so much.” Mr. Mattock stops sweating just a bit. He rushes Brendon and I to sit down at a table and goes over all the details of the affair; our hotel, our tickets to the event, itinerary, and finally, money for business expenses. I am completely zoned out of the conversation, numb with anger, until the topic of money comes up. 

“It is a three day trip, and you will have to drive to and from Aspen, as well as purchase gas and meals, so you would each get about $350 a day, not including gas money. Whoever’s car you decide to take, that person will get an extra $200.” I’m still angry out of my mind at Brendon, but now I see the dollar signs. The bills at home are piling up, and a barista salary isn’t cutting it lately. If I can spend a minimal amount of money during this trip, the difference might help at home. This trip sounds lovely.

“We can take my car.” I chime in a little too quickly. Brendon chuckles, but I don’t care. I’m already mentally planning what to pack in my suitcase. 

“Thank you, thank you so much!” Mr. Mattock is mumbling endless thanks as he exits the store. I now have to grapple with what the hell I just agreed to. I’m leaning against the glass storefront, looking at the money I’ve been given. And then it hits me. 

“Josie, I’m so excited to spend three days with you, constantly by your side. Oh, and I’m especially looking forward to the collective 8 hours we will spend together alone in your car. Aren’t you?” Brendon giggles throughout the entire phrase. With each word, I realize the gravity of this situation. I have to spend, at the very least, 72 hours practically alone with Brendon.

Brendon spends the rest of the work day poking fun at me about the situation we will be facing tomorrow. Somehow, it doesn’t occur to him to ask the reason I agreed to this trip in the first place. I’m grateful, as even the most eloquent of explanations would make me sound like a money hungry bitch. Maybe I am. I’m ignoring my moral compass today.

As 4 PM rolls around, I grab my stuff from the break room and get ready to leave. As I go, purposely not saying goodbye to Brendon, he grabs my arm.

“Hey. I know you kind of can’t stand me, but I might need your phone number so we can figure out what the plan is for tomorrow.” There’s a softness, a nervous edge to his voice. Like for once, his intention isn’t to bother me. It’s nice, if rare. In my contemplation, I’m sat there just staring at him. 

“Oh, right.” I say. I feel a blush rising to my cheeks. I fumble for my phone and pull it out of my pocket, handing it to Brendon to input his number. He takes my phone to text himself hello. He then sends a string of messages.

“hi brendon”

“its josie from work”

“you know, the girl who is absolutely smitten with you”

“wow youre so handsome”

“i cant wait for this weekend”

I finally snatch my phone back. Brendon is chuckling.

“You’re a no caps type of texter, huh? I wouldn’t expect that from you.” Brendon ponders aloud. 

“I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” I say back. I’m a bit tired, and my resolve has melted for the day. 

He finally lets me go. “Goodnight, Josie.” That same softness is in his eyes, but maybe he’s just tired.

I think about Brendon the entire drive home. I think about how much energy it takes to hate him. I think that maybe I should give him a chance. Then I remember the first day, and all the pictures, him bugging me every chance he gets, and him volunteering me for the trip this weekend. He has the maturity of a schoolboy, but charm beyond his years. It’s infuriating. I wish I could hate him, and I wish I could like him. I’m somewhere in the middle, which makes me angry. I guess for now, I do hate him. I reach the verdict that I’m not looking forward to the trip.

I get home and start packing for the weekend. Aspen is cold this time of year, so I pack all my coats and winter clothes. Layers have always been my friend. I can’t pack my toiletries yet since I need them in the morning, so I organize them a bit. When I’m finally done packing, I start going through my apartment. I switch it up a bit, checking all the electrical outlets first, then the stove and oven, then all the locks on my door and windows. It goes by quickly because I’m mentally preoccupied, worrying about the days ahead. I finally wash up and get ready for bed, and slip between the sheets. Before I attempt to sleep, I text Brendon. 

J: you still awake?

Less than 30 seconds pass before I get a response.

B: is that the formal version of “u up”? haha

J: not intentionally. can we plan for tomorrow

I decide to double text.

J: whyd you make fun of me not using capital letters in texts??? you dont either

B: i wasn’t making fun of you, merely addressing.

J: whatever. seriously whats the plan tomorrow???

A minute or two of speech bubbles appearing and disappearing goes by.

B: check in at the hotel is at 8, but they can hold the room if we’re a little late. the convention starts at 10, so we need to be there at 9:30 at the absolute latest. the drive to aspen is about 4 hours, but accounting for gas and rest stops, lets say 4 and a half. so at the latest, we need to leave at 4:30 am.

This time, he’s the one to double text.

B: yikes i know.

I almost gag at the idea of waking up that early. However, I need this job, and the money this trip has the potential to leave me with.

J: yikes indeed. ill be ready at 4:15. my address is 2180 Pick Street, Loveland, CO, 80537. you can uber here, or drive and leave your car in my driveway

B: i’ll be there, rosetti. 

I prepare to turn off my phone and head to sleep when I get another notification.

B: i meant what i said. im looking forward to this weekend. but if you bring it up in person, i’ll deny it.

One more text comes in.

B: sleep well, sweets.

I don’t have the mental capacity to respond. I set an alarm for 4 AM and roll over in my bed. I try to sleep, but those three words bounce around in my brain. Why? I hate him. Why should anything he says affect me? Moreover, why should it keep me up at night?

Three sleeping pills and a lot of contemplation later, I finally drift to sleep under the stars.


	4. Forged in the Crucible of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I really like this chapter. It's definitely one of the longer ones, but it's an important one. I try to keep my author's notes short, so I hope you enjoy this chapter! If you do, please leave a comment and/or kudos. Thank you!
> 
> Olive

My alarm blares “Roots” by Alice Merton at 4 AM. I hope for some relief from the thoughts of Brendon’s texts last night, but to no avail. This early in the morning, it’s much easier to be annoyed by them, and I’m grateful. I need to finish getting ready for this trip, and it will be much easier with a one track mind. I decide on a bare face this morning, not having enough energy to do anything past washing and moisturizing. What the hell is his problem? I run some dry shampoo through my hair, but I’m still not satisfied. I decide on a half-up half-down style, with the top part of my hair separated into space buns. He’s constantly bothering me at work, and he’s really going to text me something like that, as if those things never happened? I throw on a hoodie, leggings, and my Converse. Comfort is going to have to be the priority this morning. What an absolute asshole. I finally pack up my toiletries and throw it into my backpack. Oh God, he’s on his way to my house. Feeling thoroughly packed and panicked, I move my things to my living room and fling myself onto the couch.

I open my text thread with Brendon to see if he’s said anything else, but he hasn’t. Not wanting to think about it anymore, I turn off my phone. Just as I accidentally start to drift off to sleep again, I hear a loud honk from outside my house. Of course Brendon would honk at 4:30 AM instead of calling me like a normal person. Not wanting my neighbors to wake up and be furious at me, I quickly collect my luggage and rush outside. 

As expected, Brendon is standing in my driveway, locking his Toyota Prius. He presses the lock button on his car key, making sure the car honks one more time. I flip him the bird, and he laughs.

“You seem chipper this morning Rosetti.” He says. God, what a prick. I don’t respond, instead popping the trunk of my Subaru and dragging my luggage over. Being a gentleman for once, Brendon helps me put my things in the car. I attempt to help him with his suitcase, but he won’t let me. I’m exhausted, so I don’t object. I go to get behind the wheel, but Brendon steps in front of me.

“You seem tired. In no state to drive, one could say.” He says with a slight smile. Asshole.

“One probably could.” I snap back, trying to maneuver around him. I think he is letting me walk past, but he grabs my arm like he did last night. God, stop thinking about whatever happened last night!

He pulls me back in front of him. “Luckily for you, I’ve had my morning coffee.” I give him an expecting look, silently asking him to continue with whatever bullshit he’s getting at. His hand is still on my arm. I look down at it, and he releases me, looking slightly awkward.

“Get in the passenger seat, Rosetti.” He says. He has a pleading tone, probably begging for this interaction to end. Me too. Maybe he’s right. His car looks relatively nice, so I cross to the passenger side, hoping to God that he’s a good driver. 

I get in the car and put on my seat belt. Brendon does the same, adjusting his seat and mirrors. At least he’s careful. Right before he starts the car, he puts on a pair of glasses that I hadn’t noticed were hanging from his shirt. I didn’t know he wears glasses. He pulls out of my driveway, but he doesn’t get on the road headed for Aspen. 

“Where are we going?” I ask. I’m far too tired for this.

“Everyone likes breakfast.” He shrugs, as if that answers my question. But as we get on the road headed to Longmont, I know where we’re going. Within 10 minutes, we are pulling into Le Peep, a breakfast cafe that I rarely treat myself to. I want to be annoyed at Brendon, but I can’t. Brendon pulls into a parking spot and unbuckles his seatbelt. I start to unbuckle and get my wallet, but he stops me. I’m starting to get sick of this routine. 

“Uh uh. I got you, Rosetti.” He says. It’s a nice gesture, but I wish he would stop trying to impress me after everything he puts me through at work. 

“Fine. I’ll have a-” I start, but he stops me. 

“Let me guess. I’ll be back.” Before I can object anymore, he’s out the door, and I’m alone in the car. I don’t want to drain my phone battery, so I just sit in the car, taking in my surroundings. It shocks me that Le Peep is open this early. I start picking pieces of lint off my hoodie, counting them as I do. 

After a few minutes, Brendon knocks on the window of the car, telling me to unlock the door. I jump, unlocking it. He climbs back into the front seat, holding a paper bag and two to go cups. He starts pulling out containers, handing me one marked with the letters “EWO,” along with one of the cups. I hate that he already knows me better than I thought.

“An egg white omelette and a light and sweet coffee for the lady.” He says, pulling napkins out of the bag and handing some to me. He pulls out a container of oatmeal for himself. Before we start driving again, he pours some brown sugar and raisins into his food. 

I look over at him skeptically. “Raisins? Really? Grandpa…”

“They’re just dried grapes. Don’t get yourself crazy.” He says with a chuckle. I look at his face for a moment. His glasses are thick rimmed, and they suit him. He has a bit of scruff on his chin, and I wonder how he’d look with facial hair. He has bags under his eyes. Upon further inspection, I realize he bought himself a black coffee. But I thought he said he already had his morning coffee and that he should drive? I decide to drop it. I’m now staring at him. I turn away and look out the window, observing the lampposts in the parking lot. I can feel that he’s still looking at me, and he only turns away when he starts the car and pulls out of the parking spot. 

After we both have full stomachs and caffeinated brains, Brendon breaks the sleepy silence.

“Wanna listen to some music?”

I’m curious to hear his music taste. “Go ahead.”

To my pleasant surprise, he turns on Saint Motel. He shuffles their most recent album, letting “Destroyer” play. I’m in a good mood after my coffee, so I sing along and dance a bit. I don’t care enough to worry about what Brendon thinks. He looks over and sees that I’ve started singing, so he does the same. We go through the entire album, singing and dancing. He has a nice voice. Every once in a while, I notice him staring at me. I smile back. What a weird relationship we have. It’s so fun and so easy to say I hate him, and I think I do. But we have good moments like these. I catch him looking at me a lot. When I do, I flash him a stupid face or laugh at him and he returns his eyes back to the road. Maybe I can hate him while being his friend.

The music ends, and we’re both far too tired to continue this carpool karaoke. We are facing a straight drive for at least another hour. It dawns on me that he knows far more about me than I do about him. It’s time for a questionnaire. 

“What’s your last name?” I ask with no preface. He knows mine, it’s time I know his. 

“Urie.” He says. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. I don’t think I was expecting a name that flows like his does. He can never know that, though. I’m sure I’d never hear the end of it. 

“Well, Braiden Urie, tell me about yourself.” I start. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he laughs lightly. 

“I’m serious!” I practically yell. I hate it, but at this point, I’m laughing too. We finally stop, and he looks over at me.

“I don’t know what you want to hear. I’m pretty boring.”  
“How about the basic stuff. Middle name, favorite color, stuff like that. Or how about age?” As I say it, I realize how little we really know about each other. 

“Sure. Don’t laugh but my middle name is Boyd.” I stifle a laugh, but he doesn’t notice. “My favorite color is blue. And I’m 24.” He finishes. I didn’t realize how close in age we are.

“How about you, Rosetti? You got a middle name?” He asks me, his focus back on me.

“You’ll laugh.” I huff. It’s true, everyone does.

“You didn’t laugh when I told you my middle name is Boyd. I promise you, nothing is worse than mine.” He persuades. Maybe I’m feeling nice today.

“Orion. Yes, like the constellation.” I trail off a little bit. “My dad loved the stars…” Brendon notices me drifting into another topic, but doesn’t push any further. It looks like he reaches out to put his hand on my shoulder, but he pulls back, setting it on the center console. Now having removed the hand that was steering the car, he places his left hand on the wheel, extending his left arm. I notice his tattoo again.

“You don’t have to hate me, you know.” Brendon says. “Believe it or not, it’s not a requirement to hate your coworkers.” He pauses for a second to see my reaction. I keep a blank face. He decides to end his comment there.

“What’s with your tattoo?” I ask, trying to change the subject. I’ve wondered since the day I saw it. His demeanor instantly changes as he looks down at it. Some unspeakable sadness enters his eyes, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing. 

“Are you okay, Brendon? Do you want to pull over?” I ask. I’m worried about him.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” For some reason, he’s changed from sadness to hostility. I’ve clearly struck a nerve.

“We can talk about it, if you want.” I think I believe him. Maybe it’s not a requirement to hate him. 

“No. I’d really rather not.” He bites at me. How could I have known something was wrong?

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” I give him one more chance before I get mad right back.

“Nothing. Everything is fine, Josie. Seriously. Stop asking.” He raises his voice with the last sentence. Was I supposed to magically know that that was an issue for him? It’s right on his arm, for God’s sake. Any sane person would ask the same question.

“What is your problem, dude?! It’s just a question.” I fire back. He’s starting to really piss me off.

“JUST FUCKING DROP IT!” He yells at me. “Just drop it.” He repeats, more to himself than to me.

How stupid could I be. No, we can’t be friends. People don’t change. I think maybe, just maybe, I can have my first real friend since I graduated college, but I should have known better. Things like this just don’t work out for me. I get stuck with all the wrong people. I stare out the window and shut my mouth.

“Josie, I’m sorry-” he starts. I cut him off.

“Just drive.”

And he does. We sit in silence for the rest of the trip. 

When we finally arrive at our hotel, we are right on schedule. We check in, still not talking, not looking at each other. We get out room keys and enter the elevator up to our room. It’s just us, and the tension is palpable.

“Josie…” He starts, but he doesn’t know what to say. I wouldn’t either. I don’t even move, and he ignores whatever he was about to say. 

We get to the eleventh floor and find our room. Brendon inserts his key into the door and turns on the light. We walk in, and to my horror, there’s only one queen sized bed. Luckily there’s a couch by the door. I guess I’m looking at my sleeping arrangements for the next two nights. I can tell Brendon notices too, but he doesn’t say anything. We simply change and get ready to go to the convention in silence.

The convention passes slowly but surely. Lots of seminars on the strength of Arabica or how to properly sprinkle cinnamon on top of a latte. A lot of fluff, and it’s all supposedly important. I’m next to Brendon all day, but we don’t even look at each other. We put on fake smiles when the occasional salesman talks to us, but other than that, we wear our poker faces all day. 6 PM finally draws near, and Brendon and I silently return back to our hotel. He’s looked so sorry for himself all day, but I frankly don’t care. We enter the hotel room, and I grab my things and go into the bathroom without asking if he wants to go first. I shower, wash my face, and change into pajamas, a huge t shirt and sweatpants. I emerge from the bathroom, and Brendon has changed into a tank top and sweatpants. He finally says something. 

“You sleep in the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Oh, so now he wants to play nice? I’m not having it.

“I’m not a little girl. I’ll be fine.” I start setting up pillows and blankets on the couch. I can tell he doesn’t want to upset me anymore than he already has, and he sighs as he sits on the bed.

I think maybe, just maybe, I can go to sleep peacefully, but OCD takes no vacation days. My brain screams at me to check the outlets and the windows and doors of the room. I know Brendon will make fun of me, but I can’t even attempt to sleep until it’s done. I finish setting up my makeshift bed and walk to the windows, examining each pane and all the locks. Brendon looks at me curiously.

“What are you doing?” 

“It’s an OCD thing. Mental illness takes no days off.” I speak my previous sentiment out loud. I’m waiting for Brendon to laugh, but he doesn’t. 

“Let me know if you need anything. Goodnight, Josie.” He turns over in bed, taking off his glasses and resting his head on the pillow. 

I pay him no mind, or at least I try not to. Seeing as there’s no stove or oven to examine in here, I settle for checking the faucets and shower head in the bathroom. When I feel I’ve done enough, I retire to the couch. It’s just a bit too small for my body, but I make do. I turn on my side and see Brendon already asleep. What must it be like, to fall asleep so quickly? Maybe someday I’ll know. For now, I’m stuck on a couch in a room with my current enemy. After about an hour of tossing and turning and an embarrassing amount of tears, I finally drift to sleep under the popcorn ceiling of the hotel room.


	5. Safeguards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry it's been a bit. This one was tough to write, but I really like it! It's kind of when things start to change between Brendon and Josie, and we start to learn more about Brendon. Anyway, I'm really happy with how it came out and I hope you all like it! Please subscribe, comment, and give kudos!
> 
> \- Olive

I wake up from an extremely restless sleep on the couch, practically laying in the fetal position. As I slowly attempt to wake myself up, I notice the smell of eggs and the sound of the shower running. I sit up on the couch and stretch my aching limbs. Upon further inspection, I see a tray of room service laying on the bed, with a note on top of the platter. 

I cross the room to the bed and pick up the note and uncover the food. It’s an egg white omelet, unmistakably for me. I open the note and see the words “Can we talk? -B” written in messy handwriting. With it now being over a day since the incident, I’ve calmed down a bit. I leave the note on the nightstand and take my breakfast outside to the balcony. I start to eat and just stare at the skyline. I want to reflect on the past day’s events, but it feels refreshing to have a clear mind right now. I hope that this feeling will last, but I hear the shower turn off, and a few minutes later, the sliding glass door opens. Without a word, Brendon sits down next to me. He just stares for a minute. I wouldn’t know what to say either. The silence is driving me slowly insane, so I decide to break it.

“You said you wanted to talk. Talk.” I say in a monotone voice, still staring outwards. I’m not the one who’s hurting. At least, he should think that. 

“You asked about my tattoo. You deserve to know. And I’m so, so sorry, Josie. You may never believe me, but I am.” His voice shakes a little bit. Is this really this painful for him? I don’t say a word, but I meet his gaze to let him know I’m listening. He takes a breath. 

“I never knew my dad. He took off before I was even born. It’s always been my mom and I.” He starts. I can tell this is more difficult for him than I will probably ever know.

“Brendon…” I attempt to comfort him, but he cuts me off.

“Josie, please.” He begs me. His eyes are becoming glassy. I desist and let him speak.

“Everyday, for as long as I’ve been able to walk and talk, my mom and I played piano. It was her number one passion in life. If it came down to it, I think she’d choose it over me.” He says with a sad smile. 

“Growing up, piano was one of the only constants in my life. It was piano and church every Sunday, that’s all I had. We went through so many houses and too many schools to count, but we always had my mom’s keyboard. So we played. Every single day. Even if I was sick, even if I had a bad day at school. At first, it was nice. Music was her passion, so I tried to make it mine. But, things change. I didn’t want it anymore. But she’s my mom, you know? Everything I do is for her. She wasn’t just my mom, she was my only friend. But you can only do something you don’t care about for so long. I had to tell her.”

He stops for a second at this point. His eyes are watering as he looks out, observing the clouds, trying to center himself before continuing.

“She was crushed. I couldn’t even look at her, it was like I had ripped her heart out and stomped all over it. I tried to explain to her, God knows what I was even trying to say. I didn’t know what to do. I had to make it up to her. Try to picture this,” He starts, laughing a little bit and encouraging me to imagine the scene.

“A broken, sobbing 18-year-old boy walking into your tattoo parlor and asking for a huge tattoo of some piano keys. And they did it! They should’ve told me no, I wish they did. But by the time I had calmed down, it was done. All I could do is go home. So I did.” His face melts back into sadness again.

“I went home and showed my mom. I thought she would like it, I thought she would be happy. So I show her, and she starts to cry. ‘This is never what I wanted for you. I am so disappointed.’ Imagine hearing that, from your own mother.”

At this point, the tears are silently flowing down his face, and his voice cracks on every few words. 

“So I just left. Two weeks went by, and I packed up for college and left. I’ve only seen her twice since. I came home for Thanksgiving and Christmas that year, but I could tell she didn’t want me there. So I just don’t see her anymore.”

My heart is aching for him. This man that I despise has so much pain inside him. Yet he laughs and cracks jokes as if nothing is ever wrong. 

“So yeah, now you know.” He wipes his tears and starts to get up, expecting me not to care. I don’t blame him. I don’t remember starting to cry, but by the time I’m out of my chair, I am sobbing. I hate him. I hate him so much. I just want him to be alright. I fling my arms around his neck and pull him in for a hug. For his sake, not mine. He hesitates for a moment, but reciprocates the gesture, holding me tightly. What a mess we must look, standing on the balcony of an only moderately nice hotel, sobbing; I into his shoulder, him into my hair. After a good 5 minutes, I’m the first to pull away. I can’t bring myself to say anything, and from the look on his face and the soft sadness in his eyes, he can’t either. I give him a knowing look, and something possesses me to reach out and squeeze his hand. He smiles.

Realizing the events of the past 15 minutes, I retreat to the bathroom. I sit on the toilet seat, holding my knees to my chest. What the hell is wrong with me? Life hasn’t been easy for anyone, but I don’t mourn the sorrow of every person I know. Feeling empathy for Brendon does not mean I’m his friend. 

I think about my own father. Why do fathers have a way about them of ruining people? Maybe I wouldn’t- no, I definitely wouldn’t- be so compulsive if he hadn’t up and left us. I was just a fragile little ten-year-old girl, unknowingly watching her dad leave for good through a hole in the fence in her backyard. Before I know it, I’m crying again. Snap out of it. I dry my eyes with the sleeves of my sweatshirt and get ready to leave for the convention today. Strong Josie, powerful Josie. Be the Josie your father must be ashamed to have left.

The day at the convention passes in a bit of an emotional haze. Vendors and keynote speakers come and go, but I’m not paying attention. I can’t stop thinking about my mother now. How would I feel if I told her how I felt about something and she practically disowned me for it? I don’t know how I’d go on. I am so thankful for her. Brendon really has no one. All day, I have to hold back tears. What planet is in retrograde that has me feeling like this?

On the drive back to our hotel, Brendon has the courage to play music for the first time since the incident on the drive up here. We listen to The Neighbourhood softly as I stare out the car window. The sunset is a brilliant pink, but Brendon is looking at me. Does he know that I notice, and does he do it to make me nervous? That must be it. 

We arrive back at the hotel and I let Brendon shower first. I decide to get my nightly checks over with and spend the time examining the locks on the windows and doors, as well as the electrical outlets. When Brendon comes back into the room, I take my turn in the bathroom. I shower and throw on pajamas, checking the faucets and shower head before I go. My makeshift bed is still set up on the couch. I sit down and flick off the light.

“Goodnight, Brendon.” It’s my turn to say it.

“Goodnight, Josie.”

For some reason, tonight is different. I always struggle to fall asleep, but no matter how much medication I take, sleep doesn’t come. I turn on my side and look at Brendon asleep in bed. Moonlight is streaming through the ineffective blinds, painting lines of light across his face. He looks peaceful, but that sad look is still visible, and I know it all too well. I turn back over and face the couch cushions.

After about another half hour of tossing and turning, still wide awake, I decide I can’t take it anymore. In my sleep deprived mindset, I get up and walk over to the bed and gently shake Brendon awake. What am I doing?

“Brendon… Bren…” I whisper. Bren? What is wrong with me?

Brendon makes a sort of whimpering sound to let me know he hears me, turning over to face me with his eyes still closed. I feel like a child who just had a nightmare, standing at the side of the bed, searching for some sort of comfort.

“Can I sleep here?” I whisper. Brendon nods and starts to get up to take my spot on the couch. I already don’t fit there, how would he? I put a hand on his chest and stop him.

“Don’t. We can just… share.” I don’t know what’s come over me. Brendon doesn’t protest and slides to the opposite end of the bed to make room for me. I pull the covers aside and slip into the bed, already feeling much better. I turn over to Brendon, but he’s already passed out again. About 5 minutes later, he turns in his sleep, and he’s facing me. I don’t move. 

I examine his features in the dim light for a moment. His scruff is now gone, and his eyelashes are just long enough that they rest on his face. His full lips are slightly parted. He’s not snoring, but he’s breathing lightly.

“You don’t have to hate me, you know.” His words echo in my mind.

I finally drift to sleep, studying his face behind my eyelids.


	6. An Offer You Can't Refuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm sorry I haven't uploaded in forever. School is driving me nuts, and with school came writer's block. But here's a chapter I've had written for a while! If you like it, please subscribe and leave a comment and kudos! Love you all.
> 
> Olive

I wake up relatively early, feeling surprisingly well rested for sleeping on the couch. As I start to leave my sleepy haze, I realize I’m not on the couch, but in a bed. With that observation, I remember everything that happened last night and let out a disappointed sigh. Bad Josie.

I’m facing the window, so I turn over to face the other side of the bed. Brendon is already up, and the shower is running. There’s no breakfast this time, though. We have a few hours before we have to check out and head home, so I take it upon myself to order room service. This time, it’s my treat, considering how much Brendon has bought me in the past couple of days. I order our usual by now, an egg white omelet and a bowl of oatmeal. 

Just as I hear a knock on the door, the shower turns off. I run to the door and wheel the cart of food inside. A few minutes later, Brendon emerges from the bathroom wearing only a pair of sweatpants, his hair still damp. I awkwardly turn away, pouring myself a glass of orange juice. I expect that by the time I’ve turned back around he’ll have a shirt on but to no avail. Damn, he’s muscular. I bring my food onto the balcony again, and Brendon follows suit. We eat mostly in comfortable silence, a much less awkward silence than that of the one we experienced in the car. I pray to God that he doesn’t bring up the crying, or the hug, or the bed. He doesn’t. It’s like he can read my mind.

We finish breakfast, pack our bags, and check out of the hotel. Brendon has my car keys per usual, but I stop him and snatch them from his hand. 

“My turn,” I say, staring into his brown eyes. 

“If you insist.” He plainly says and goes around the car to get into the passenger seat. 

I finally get back into the driver’s seat of my car, and it feels nice. I missed it dearly. I adjust my mirrors and seat back to their proper settings and back out of the parking lot onto the freeway. 

Just as we did a few days earlier, we are blasting music and singing at the top of our lungs. I let Brendon pick the queue so I can keep my eyes on the road, and he doesn’t disappoint. We mostly alternate between The Neighbourhood and Fun. “Sweater Weather” comes on shuffle, and I do a ridiculous dance to the slowed down part at the end of the song. As I do, Brendon reaches around the passenger seat and grabs his Polaroid, snapping another photo of me. This time, it doesn’t bother me as much, but as the song ends and I turn down the volume, I ask him the same question as before.

“Why do you take pictures of me?” There’s less anger and more curiosity. Brendon sits there for a moment, thinking about the question. Maybe he hasn’t thought of the answer either.

“I just like to document those rare, happy moments in life.” He says it with that familiar softness in his eyes. Like he means every word he says. 

 

We get off the freeway and slowly roll to a red light, and Brendon stares out the window. I steal the camera from him and tap his shoulder, directing him to look my way. I snap a picture and steal the print.

“Me too.”

We drive the rest of the way home mostly without a word with the music playing lightly from the stereo. A half hour later, we are back in my driveway. Brendon helps me bring my luggage inside, and I help him put his into his car. I watch and wave from my front step as he drives away. He dramatically blows a kiss at me as he drives away, and I pretend to swat it away. I try to seem annoyed, but I smile.

It’s not terribly late yet, so I start to unpack my things from my suitcase. I’m feeling a bit distracted, and it takes a lot longer than I anticipated. My OCD gets the better of me this evening, and I need to fold and re-fold some of my shirts four of five times before I’m satisfied with them. When I’m done, I realize how hungry I am. My fridge is empty, so I decide to order Chinese food. It’s so greasy but so good. By the time I’m done it’s barely even dark out, but I decide that attempting to go to bed early might do me some good. I clear my dining table, take a quick shower, and put on a triple XL tee shirt for bed. I throw my hair into a scrunchie and check my phone.

For some reason, I check Facebook, setting aside the fact that I haven’t used it in months. I have over 60 notifications and 15 friend requests. At the top of the list is none other than Brendon Urie. I chuckle and accept it. I don’t even open my notifications tab, because if I start going through them, I won’t be able to stop until they’re all gone. I check my timeline and see that Kate got engaged a few days ago. It hurts that she didn’t tell me, but I decide to text her anyway.

J: congratulations on your engagement!!!!! 

It only takes her a few minutes to reply.

K: Thanks girl! I was just thinking about you, and I wanted to invite you to the wedding!

I’m in shock. She really wants me at her wedding? It’s sweet, if unexpected.

J: wow, thank you so much for the invite!!! id love to come. when and where?

K: It’s December 15 at 5 pm at The Garden Room in Loveland. You live there now, right?

She remembers that? I told her once, as we both left our dorm for the last time. Maybe I do have friends, I just dismiss them too quickly. I feel a little guilty.

J: yes i live here! i am definitely free that weekend. im excited, i miss you a lot. what should i wear? is it byob? im already nervous

Kate knows this is just like me. She never gets aggravated, she always takes her time reassuring me. Thinking about it, I’m really grateful for her.

K: Wear whatever you want, girl! Just no white. Duh. And of course it’s not BYOB! You take care of the registry, we take care of the booze! 

I’m about to reply when I see the typing bubbles appear again.

K: OH! We want a lot of people there for the photos haha. Can you bring a date?

My heart drops into my stomach. I haven’t thought about dating since high school. I always tell myself I have no time, but in the back of my mind, I know I’m lying to myself. I start to sweat a little bit just at the thought.

J: oh i dont know. i have no idea who id even bring

Ever the detective, Kate starts her reply.

K: BS! Who’s that guy you just friended on Facebook?

J: no one, just a guy from work

K: He’s cute, bring him! It doesn’t have to be a weird thing. You can even blame me and say I told you that you HAVE to bring someone.

Cute. The word bounces around my brain, and for what? He is definitely attractive. No, that’s not what I meant. He is objectively a good looking guy. No, that’s way worse. What is happening?

J: ill ask, just for you

My heart races as I press send.

K: YAAAAASSSS!!!!!!!! Do you know him well?

J: a little bit, we just got back from a work trip together

K: Ooh, a work trip huh? What part of you was he working on, hmm?

J: NOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO!!!!!!! nothing like that. shut up!!!!! hes super annoying anyway

K: If he’s super annoying, why did you friend him on Facebook?

I don’t have an answer.

J: we’re done talking about this

K: Whatever you say…

J: im going to bed, goodnight. stop telling me he’s hot!!!!

K: I never said that, hun. Sweet dreams.

I lay my phone against my chest. Hot. Why would I say that? I think I’m losing my mind. I decide to text Brendon.

J: hey. thanks for this weekend. i actually had fun. goodnight

I put down my phone without waiting for a reply. My mind is going a million miles an hour. Am I really going to invite him to be my plus one to a fucking wedding?

After two sleeping pills, a glass of lemon water, and a walk around my apartment, I finally drift to sleep under the stars.


	7. A Moment of Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry I haven't updated in so long. I'm in my school's play and I have tons of school work on top of it, so I barely have time to write. I love this chapter though! It took so long but it was worth it. I hope you all feel the same way. Please leave kudos and comments if you like it!
> 
> \- Olive

Getting back into the usual routine, I wake up for work just before 7 AM. I decide I can’t be bothered to do makeup, so I simply shower and throw on a black hoodie with jeans and a pair of slip on Vans shoes. I put my hair into two French braids and decide that this will have to do for today. Before I leave my bathroom, I remember a tip I learned from some online blog that said to use highlighter on a otherwise bare face to give the skin a “natural glow,” so I do just that. Somewhat satisfied, I grab my wallet and keys and head out. I think part of me hoped I could at least go a morning without thinking of Brendon, but it doesn’t work out. Before I pull out of my driveway, I check my phone to see if he’s responded to my text. Nothing. I put my phone in the cup holder and leave for work. 

As I approach the storefront of The Cocoa Connection, I see Brendon wiping down the counter. The moment he notices me, he runs to hold the door open for me. As I walk in, he stops me like always.

“I saw your text, but I wanted to respond in person. I had a lot of fun too. Thank you for agreeing to come even though I invited you in the most dickish way possible.” He’s still holding me, but instead of the usual upper arm, his hand is around my wrist. His index finger is more or less resting on the side of my palm. We both look down and back up at each other, respectively releasing and pulling away. I cough.

“It’s okay. Thanks.” I respond sheepishly. I walk away and join him in wiping down the tables, but I take a place on the opposite side of the store. Before either of us realize the time, its 8 AM; opening time. Brendon unlocks the doors and switches the sign on the door from closed to open. As the first customer of the day comes in, Brendon and I take our places behind the counter, him at the register and I at the coffee bar. He flashes me a smile and turns to take the woman’s order.

1 PM rolls around soon enough, and Diane comes in to cover our lunch break. She appears to be in a horrible mood, and I avoid her as best as possible. During a slow part of the morning I bought myself lunch for the day, finally taking advantage of my employee discount. It’s nice to be prepared for once. I go to the break room to heat up my food, and Brendon follows suit. His meal prep doesn’t require the microwave, so he sits down and starts eating. We are silent until I join him.

“Diane seems to be in bad mood. Even worse than usual. I thought that was impossible.” Brendon says with a chuckle in between bites of his hard boiled egg.

“It probably has to do with Mr. Mattock. They seem to have some sort of… situation going on.” I reply, taking a sip of my water.

Brendon’s eyes widen as he rolls them, showing that he knows something I don’t. He eats his hummus and it doesn’t sound like he’s going to continue.

“What do you know, Braiden?” I ask in a ridiculous Transatlantic accent. He giggles a little, and finishes chewing.

“I thought it was obvious!” He replies, smiling with his entire face. 

“Clearly not!” I throw back. It’s a quick reply, but not a mean one. 

“Well… Mr. Mattock has been seeing Diane’s daughter. It’s weird, but she’s eighteen so there’s not much anyone can do about it. Mr. Mattock was going to promote Diane to assistant manager here, which she thought would lead her to corporate, but Mattock and Emily, Diane’s daughter, had some sort of falling out, I guess. So Mattock is taking it out on Diane. Diane obviously won’t stand for that,” he says this part quite dramatically, as if he’s giving a recap of a soap opera episode, “so she dropped out of going to CoffeeCon. I have no clue what happened after that, but I’m sure it was ugly.” He finishes, leaning back and taking another bite of his carrots and hummus.

“You really know all the hot gossip of The Cocoa Connection, huh?” I add air quotes around “hot gossip” so he knows I’m messing around. 

“I guess so. It’s nice to know more than you for once, Rosetti.” He quips back. I smile to myself and continue to eat. I finish my sandwich just before Brendon finishes his lunch, and I remember the wedding. I might as well ask him now, because if he’s busy and I show up alone, I’ll never hear the end of it from Kate.

“Don’t laugh..” I start. 

“Oh no… You killed someone, didn’t you? Or you robbed a bank or something?” Brendon replies, trying his best to sound serious. It doesn’t work, but it does get a smile out of me.

“No, it’s worse.” I say. He looks genuinely worried, but doesn’t say anything, allowing me to continue. 

“So I got invited to my college friend’s wedding, and she’s basically forcing me to bring a date.” I gulp before I admit the next part of the sentence to him. “You’re kind of my only… friend… lately, and I wanted to know if you would come?” I can’t place the reason why, but he looks so happy. 

“We’re friends?” He asks quietly, still wearing a soft smile. 

“I think so. At the very least, I tolerate you.” I pause. “Don’t let it go to your head.” I’m smiling now too. We must look ridiculous.

“I would love to go.” He is being genuine. Sincerity looks good on him. I try to stop the blush that I feel rising to my cheeks.

I quickly start talking again. “Great, it’s December 15 at 5 pm at The Garden Room.” Kate would be so proud of me right now.

“It’s gonna be like prom, except the king and queen are throwing it.” Brendon observes. I want to laugh, but in a way, he’s right. I nod.

The previous night’s panic about a dress sets in. It must show on my face, because Brendon comments.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have to go dress shopping now.” I say with a sigh. I hate shopping, and I avoid it all costs. The majority of my wardrobe is the stuff that still fits and looks somewhat decent from my high school years.

Brendon blushes slightly, but starts speaking anyway. “You know, if I’m your plus one, we should look like we’re together,” he starts. He has this habit of not elaborating on his ideas and expecting me to understand his point. I look at him expectedly, and he continues.

“In order to look like we’re together, we should color coordinate. In order to color coordinate, I’ll need to, you guessed it, know what color you’re wearing.” I still don’t follow him.

“I think… maybe... I should come dress shopping with you... If that’s okay.” His confidence wavers the whole time and falls completely flat on the last part of his thought. My brain immediately screams “NO,” but I realize that he may be right. I think it over in my head for a moment. He can be so annoying, but he knows what a girl wants to hear. No, needs to hear. Needs.

“You’re right, I guess.” I say slowly. “Yeah.”

“Two in one day, that’s rare.” He comments. I involuntarily smile. 

“I’m going Saturday, whether you’re free or not. We can meet at my house at noon, and we’ll take one of our cars.” I plan the day in my head as I say it. 

“I’ll be there, Rosetti.” It’s almost his catch phrase now. We’re both caught in a weird situation of just looking at each other when we hear a shout from outside.

“I’M DONE! GET BACK IN HERE!” 

Brendon and I scramble to our feet and run out to see Diane throwing her apron on the ground. 

“Stupid millennials…” I hear her grumble as she storms out. I so desperately want to know what just happened, but we have a lunch time influx to attend to. 

For some reason, we’re crazy busy for the rest of the day. From that moment after lunch all the way until the end of our shifts, we don’t get a minute to rest. The second the clock hits 4 PM, I’m out. I’m so exhausted that I can barely manage a wave to Brendon as I leave. I can tell he’s tired too, but he walks over to me, grabbing my wrist like he did this morning. He looks nervous.

“Josie, can I tell you something?”

His voice shakes slightly when he says my name. “Yeah, anything.” I respond truthfully. He opens his mouth to say something, but quickly closes it. I can tell from the look on his face that he’s changed his mind. Relief washes over his face.

“It can wait. Goodnight, sweets.”

For once, I don’t mind. I smile and walk outside into the cold Colorado air. The drive home is a battle with my drooping eyelids. The second I get home, against my better judgement, I make myself a cup of coffee. I let the caffeine wake me up and I start a load of laundry. As I sit, waiting for the load in the dryer to finish, I decide to do my nightly check ins. Per usual, I check the stove, oven, outlets, windows and doors, and now, because of the trip, the faucets. About half an hour later, I’m done with my inspection and the dryer is finished. I start to fold the laundry, having to redo some of it four or five times. When I’m finally happy with it, I am a little hungry, so I make myself one of my favorite meals: spaghetti with olive oil, broccoli, and edamame. Deciding to turn in early, I wash up and lay in bed on my phone for a while.

I don’t remember falling asleep, I only remember waking up sobbing in a cold sweat. I barely even remember what the nightmare was about, only that Brendon was there. Before I can stop myself, or even check the time, I call him.

The phone rings for a while, but he finally picks up. I can tell I’ve woken him up from his raspy voice.

“Hello..?”

I can’t control my crying. “Brendon?” I manage to choke out.

The second he realizes I’m crying, he’s wide awake. “Josie? Is everything okay?”

I blubber on and on. “I just had a nightmare and all I remember is that you were there and I think I lost you and I don’t want to lose you and I can’t believe that I care about you and I can’t believe I’m admitting that to you and I wanted to make sure you’re still here and okay and I-”

“I’m coming over, hang tight for a bit.” The line goes dead. I force myself to get up and unlock my door, but before I can make it back to my bed, I collapse on the floor. I am sobbing so uncontrollably that my body is shaking. I don’t even register the passage of time.

I’m not sure if it’s five minutes or five hours later, but at some point, Brendon opens my door. He looks like he is about to call out my name, but before he does, he sees me crumpled on the floor. I feel his strong hands grab my arms and pull me up. I feel so vulnerable. I just stand there in front of him, sobbing into my hands. He doesn’t say anything, he just pulls me into his chest and holds me tight. We must be there for a long time, but he doesn’t let go, he just holds me and strokes my hair and whispers to me about how everything is okay. At some point, I stop crying, but I’m so exhausted from letting everything out like that. I start to fall, but Brendon catches me, picks me up bridal style, and brings me back to my room. 

“Thank you.” Is all I can manage. He shushes me and lays me down. With his hand gently stroking my hair once again, I drift to sleep under the stars.


	8. An Accidental Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for not publishing in so long. I was desperate to get something out to you guys, so I decided to make this a two-parter. Hopefully part two is coming soon! I just didn't want to add too much to this chapter and tire myself or you guys out. Sorry again for the hiatus, enjoy!

I wake up much later than I intended to. It must be almost noon by the time I’m fully awake. When I’m finally ready to get up and start the day, I stretch, grab my phone from its charger, and put on my slippers. My hair is unbelievably tangled and I can’t remember why. I throw it into a ponytail using the scrunchie on my wrist and head towards the kitchen.

I yawn as I open my bedroom door, but I’m suddenly wide awake when I see who’s on my couch. I cover my mouth to avoid screaming. Brendon is there, positioned upright with his chin resting in his hand and his arm on the armrest of my couch. He’s fast asleep, and even while he’s sleeping I can tell he’s exhausted. He must have fallen asleep recently, because his phone is on the couch next to him, and it’s still unlocked. It’s unlocked...

That’s wrong. I can’t go around snooping in people’s private property. 

Maybe just once.

Against my better judgement, I pick up Brendon’s phone.It’s open to a text thread with someone named Mike, a friend I’m assuming. I figure I’ve already gone this far, it would somehow be worse if I picked up his phone and didn’t read what was on it.

5:26 AM

B: hey dude, you up?

M: Yeah man, you good?

B: yeah, just exhausted. remember that girl i was telling you about from work?

M: Yeah

M: The one you swore was just a friend?

B: if that’s what you took from that, sure. 

B: anyway, at like 3 AM she called me hysterical about how she had a nightmare that she lost me and how she doesnt want that to happen and how she cares about me.

B: so i came to her house to comfort her.

B: she cried for a bit and i brought her back to her bed and she fell asleep.

B: so now im just sitting on her couch because i dont wanna leave her like this.

M: Right. Just friends.

M: Seriously, is she okay?

B: yeah, shes asleep now. i just got worried and i dont wanna leave her by herself tonight.

M: Good call.

M: So you’re telling me that she had a nightmare about losing you, called you, you came over to comfort her and are still sitting at her house because you’re worried about her.

M: And you’re just friends?

B: dude, thats what i said. chill.

M: Sure.

M: You should go home dude, it’s super late. If she’s sleeping, I’m sure she’s fine.

B: id be up all night worried at home. if i know im not getting any sleep regardless, i might as well just stay here.

B: what are you doing up anyway?

M: I’m helping Nicole move into her new apartment today. She wanted to get it done early, so I’m heading her way soon.

B: oh. tell her i said hi.

B: ill let you go then.

B: would it be rude if i tried to get some sleep on her couch?

M: I’ll tell her you say hello.

M: Also, no way! Try to get some shut eye.

M: Talk later bud.

The messages are a lot to digest. He really cares that much? 

As I’m thinking, Brendon receives another text. I fold the phone up in my sweatshirt in an attempt to keep the notification sound from waking Brendon up. I must look ridiculous, but it works. Why stop now? I open the new text. It’s from someone named Dan.

12:14 PM

D: You good?

I scroll up and see the texts Brendon had sent him earlier. There’s basically a copy and paste of what he had sent Mike, but I keep reading past that just in case I find anything interesting.

10:28 AM

B: dude, she still isnt awake.

B: do i wake her up?

B: ugh idk what to do.

B: i hope shes okay.

D: i’m sure she’s fine. you’re a good man for being so concerned.

There’s a half written message waiting to be sent in the conversation thread, as if Brendon started writing it and got another notification halfway through.

“im so in lov”

And that’s all it says. I try to pretend that I don’t know what it says, but I do. I want to throw the phone down and run away, even though I’m in my own house. Careful not to wake him up and have to deal with the situation, I turn off Brendon’s phone and place it back in its original spot. I retreat back to my bedroom and shut the door.

I sit on my bed, thinking about what I just read. No way. Not me. He must have been messing around. Or maybe he was tired and didn’t know what he was saying. Or maybe it was a typo. Yes, it must have been a typo.

I do some breathing exercises. I am calm. Everything is fine.

I hear Brendon whispering on the phone, meaning he’s awake. Nothing is fine. 

I need to confront this at some point. I can’t pretend to be asleep forever. I take a moment to compose myself and enter the living room once more as if it were for the first time this morning. 

“Hey.” Is all I can manage. Brendon looks up. I was right, he looks so exhausted. But he also looks happy to see me.

“Hey.” He almost whispers. Like he’s afraid to break me. I’m standing there, fiddling with the hem of my sweatshirt like a scared child. I can’t look him in the eye. This is all my fault. If I’d just kept to myself and didn’t snoop, I wouldn’t be in this situation. Stupid Josie.

“Coffee?” He breaks the silence. I nod wordlessly and he enters my kitchen. He’s never made coffee at my house before, but I have one of those brewers that uses coffee pods. It’s not exactly rocket science. After a few minutes of Brendon clinking around my kitchen, I hear the coffee brewer turn on. I sit awkwardly on the edge of the couch. I try to adjust my posture and act like everything is alright, but I think Brendon and I both know it’s far from that. He returns with two steaming mugs of coffee. I sip gingerly, surprised at how good it is.

We sit there in silence for a few minutes. We’re both on edge, but for very different reasons. He stares at the side of my face and I’m aware of it, but I refuse to meet his gaze. He looks like he wants to say something, but is worried about it.

“Are you okay?” Those three words have the potential to break me all over again. The short answer is no. The long answer is that I promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone into my life again, especially him, and now that I have, I’m afraid of being let down or losing him. I really, really hate admitting that I care about him. But at least I’m not lying to myself anymore. I’m not, right?

“Yeah.” I smile sweetly. I know I should thank him, but I can’t even begin to think of what I would say. 

“Thank you… For last night.” I find myself thanking him a lot. I guess I am grateful for him.

“We’re friends, Jo. It’s what friends do.” I observe that he’s given me a new nickname. This one might be one of my favorites. Not that he’ll ever know. I can tell he wants to say more, but my eyes are already glassy. Anything more might send me over the edge again. I feign cheerfulness and jump up from the couch.

“Bit of a late start. Better start getting ready if I wanna get anything done today.” I say. I turn around to head to my room and take a shower, but then I think of Brendon. He’s been here all night. 

“Do you want to take a shower?” I ask him. It is the absolute least I can do.

“That’d be great, thanks.” He says with a smile. He’s so damn happy all the time. Or he’s very good at pretending. Trying to figure out which one it is might make me cry again, so I settle for leading him to my bathroom.

“Towels are in there, use anything you need.” I point to the closet and my counter respectively. He smiles with his whole face. We’re stood there, just staring at each other when I realize he’s waiting for me to leave. I can feel the blush surfacing in my cheeks as I pull the bathroom door closed behind me. A few seconds later I hear the shower turn on.

I sit on the edge of my bed once again, this time with coffee. I start scrolling through my phone in an attempt to distract myself, but it’s no use. These are the times I wish I had other social medias to distract me, seeing as Facebook is garbage. 

So I just sit on my bed, staring into my coffee cup. He doesn’t know that I know, I shouldn’t make this weird if it doesn’t have to be. Why am I being so weird about it? Brendon is my friend. Oh no. He’s my friend. I need to stop thinking.

I ditch my coffee for a shot of tequila from the cabinet. As it washes down, I hear the shower turn off. I take one more shot. I have to grin and bear it somehow.

I give Brendon a few minutes to change in my bathroom. When he’s done, I awkwardly come back to my room as he slides past me into the living room. I throw on shorts and a t-shirt, something easy to change in and out of for trying on dresses. 

I look in the mirror and take a deep breath. This is going to be a long day.


	9. hi

okay guys i just feel like i need to type this here. i dont have a lot of readers on this one so who knows if anyone is seeing this but oh well. i have a lot of love for this story, however its not my current priority and yall shouldnt expect updates on this anytime soon. this isnt me saying ill never finish it, im just currently focused on my other fic as its being recieved much better and has a steady readership. if yall like bandersnatch or just like my style of writing in general, you can go read How We Roll Our Dice, its published on this account. just felt like i should put this here to clear some stuff up. thanks to anyone who read up to here. i love you all!!!


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